


First line

by TruebornAlpha



Series: Jock Strap [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Jock Stiles, M/M, Nerd Scott, Poor Coach Finstock, Public Sex, Sciles, Shameless Smut, Teen Wolf AU, lacrosse tryouts, season 1 AU, werewolf powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 03:46:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1967748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott was bitten by some sort of animal and now everything is changing. The asthmatic outcast suddenly finds himself dominating the lacrosse field with his popularity soaring. The hot boyfriend doesn't hurt either. If only he could figure out why his emotions are all over the place and why he can't seem to control his more primal instincts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First line

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by Loz's amazing AU [here](http://lozenger8.tumblr.com/post/88246964021/initially-written-for-mating-games-but-i-messed) and [here](http://lozenger8.tumblr.com/post/88264026251/tofixtheshadows-replied-to-your-post-initially). We just couldn't resist playing in her world! What would it be like if Stiles didn't grow up with the boy who taught him how to be kind and Scott didn't have anyone who believed in him so hard he learned to believe in himself?

__

_Art by the amazing[Rouvere](http://rouvere.tumblr.com)_

Bruises faded, maybe a little faster than normal, but Scott barely noticed. There were too many things on his mind as he ducked his head and tried to navigate the hallways unnoticed. His mom hadn’t wanted him to go back to school so soon, especially since he refused to name his attackers, but he wanted to go and she eventually relented with a worried frown. It was hard to protect him when he never admitted that he needed help.

He could hear the whispering behind him, words as clear as day as Duncan and Gellar talked to Jackson. Hell, he could hear everything. The bell between classes was an earsplitting agony and every slam of a locker door made him jump. Ugh, and the  _smells_ , he felt like his senses were overloading and he didn’t know how to turn it off. There was some kind of itch under his skin, something that crawled along his nerves and left him irritable no matter how he tried to smile. Man, he really hoped he wasn’t going to die of some weird strain of super rabies.

Scott tried to stay quiet as he changed for lacrosse tryouts, doing his best to avoid attention. He couldn’t even look at Stiles, pulling the padding on as quickly as possible. Coach was finally letting them compete for first line, this was everything he’d been working for and he still felt so unprepared. A heavy shoulder slammed into his side and sent him into the lockers, but he didn’t turn around to face the boys as they snickered and headed out to the field.  _I can do this._

It wasn’t until he was out on the field that things changed, like the world had finally come into focus. Everything moved so slowly, it was like he had years to scoop the ball from the air and dodge the defensive player. Or was it that he was suddenly fast? It seemed so easy all of a sudden. He could breathe, his lungs were clear and the familiar wheeze was gone. He spun and darted across the grass, leaping high in the air to vault over the defenders’ heads and flinging the ball into the goal before Scott even realized what he’d done.  _H-how?_  Coach snagged his face by the guard of his helmet, smacking the top of his head with a grin as he made his announcement. First line. First fucking line! Scott whooped, bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement and completely ignoring the dark looks from some of his teammates.

___

Stiles had spent as much time as he could plastered against Scott’s side. He became a near-permanent figure at the McCall household. He wasn’t exactly sure how Melissa took it, but she seemed less and less shocked to find him tucked against her son’s side, watching television when she came home from work. She probably wouldn’t have appreciated Stiles’ take on healing, but he couldn’t help it, when he got that feeling.

Rumors had sprung like weeds about the animal attack Scott was involved in. People wondered why he was in the woods by himself, and if that poor sweet guy was okay. A few weeks ago, they wouldn’t have recognized his name. Stiles wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he was mostly angry. Jackson had been keeping his distance. Stiles was about two seconds away from running him over with his Jeep, and the school talked about that, too. He was more apt to ignore those.

He’d thought he’d need to speak with Scott before practice or something - mostly naked. Also for emotional support though. Taking those last few days without practice was bound to hurt Scott’s preparation, and Scott was really looking forward to making first string. Stiles was not above cutting a few people off the roster to make that happen. 

And then he realized didn’t need to.

Stiles rose up, screaming his head off when Scott scored. He might have been the loudest, but he wasn’t the only one. No one believed what they saw, and Jackson’s jaw was getting grass stains on it. Stiles was pretty sure he outmatched the coach’s whistle, but he didn’t care. Two seconds later he was barreling into Scott, yelling, “First line!”

Stiles was the first one, but more than a few guys joined the tackle, yelling and demanding to know how the hell Scott did that.

___

“Yes!!” Scott whooped, wrapping his arms around Stiles and banging their helmets together as less familiar weight slammed into him. He waved his arms wildly and he lost his footing, laughing as he was literally crushed by his teammates’ enthusiasm. He wasn’t sure if he was more shocked to have made it on first line or that there were people on the team who supported him. “Dude, I don’t know! It’s like everyone’s moving in slow motion, this is freaking awesome!”

It must have been all the practice finally paying off. He was shocked that he rebounded so quickly after being hurt, but he felt fucking  _great_. His nerves sparked, electric. He had so much energy he felt like he was going to vibrate right out of his skin. Whatever this was, it was amazing and he reveled in the attention. He didn’t notice Jackson whispering to his cronies or the man in the leather jacket watching by the bleachers.

The rest of practice passed in a blur and Scott couldn’t stop grinning. He could barely wait until they had made it back to the locker room before he stripped off his helmet, shook his sweaty hair, and pinned Stiles against the lockers with a kiss in front of everyone. He was too excited to be careful and too happy to care. “Oh my god! We need to celebrate. It has to happen, we need to do something and  _oh_! I have tell my mom, she’ll be freaking out.”

A hand closed around the back of his neck and hauled him away as Scott found himself three inches from Jackson’s snarl. “You cheated, I know you did. I’m not sure how, but there’s no way a little failure like you suddenly can play. I don’t know how you did it or what kind of juice you’re on, but I am going to find out, McCall. I warned you.”

___

Stiles cheered because that goal had been spectacular. No one could believe what they saw, and praising Scott just felt so easy. There was so much of his  _boyfriend_  that was worth acclaim, and sometimes, in the privacy of his mind, he wondered why it had taken him too long to see it. More often, he wondered about how to get the rest of the school to see it.

Then shit got weird. Scott had been improving, like a lot. It was amazing what a little coached running and pitching techniques could do to your game. What Stiles saw out in the field wasn’t improvement. It was the hand of God at work. He pushed himself to the brink, trying to keep up with Scott. Gone was the uncoordinated asthmatic kid who took too many breaks to catch his breath and make out on the forest floor (which, probably wasn’t a great idea). Scott was unbelievable. Stiles kind of felt like his legs were going to fall off.

He wanted to regret it, or demand an explanation, but the moment he’d pulled off his helmet, Scott’s mouth was on him and he forgot everything that wasn’t the taste of his tongue. Danny may have given him a thumbs up. Stiles couldn’t tell. 

He saw red, and when Stiles checked Jackson, he crashed into a locker. His words twisted into a low growl of warning. Stiles was almost surprised by how angry he was. “Fuck off, Jackson. Better yet, go learn how to play.”

Stiles didn’t appreciate how much he’d given up.

___

Scott twisted his hand into the back of Stiles’s jersey, holding him back with surprisingly little effort. The light must have hit him at a strange angle because for a moment, it seemed like the brown reflected a bright yellow as he glared. He felt strong, almost invincible. If Jackson wanted to go, he could take him! His lips curled back almost in a snarl and Scott felt a sudden overwhelming urge to try and sink his teeth into Jackson’s neck. Whoa…okay, pull that craziness back a bit. The boy had to take a step back, shaking his head like he was trying to clear it.

“I-I…just leave me alone, dude. I never did anything to you.” He retreated quickly away from the rest of the team as they finished changing, rubbing at the side of his head and sitting heavily on the bench next to his locker. His heart hammered hard against his ribs, vision blurring as he panted through his mouth. Was he sick? It didn’t feel like he was going to be sick, more like he was being cleaved in two with a knife. His head throbbed with a sharp ache and Scott pressed his hands harder against his skull like the pressure would help relieve the pain.

His hand curled into a fist as he tried to beat back the rage. This wasn’t right, this wasn’t him. He’d get angry like anyone, but it wasn’t ever this misdirected and intense. All he wanted to do was lash out at whatever was close by. Without a word, he slammed his fist against the bank of lockers, denting the steel like it was flimsy plastic and scraping his knuckles bloody. The burst of fury seemed to calm him and he examined his hand with a detached sort of fascination. It barely even hurt.

___

"What the fuck, Scott?" 

Stiles was stunned. That was more than enough to knock him out of his self-righteous vexation. Scott had held him back, and Stiles could have sworn the guy had hooked him to a brick wall. Jackson’s dramatic departure had done enough to alleviate the focus on them. The blond stalked off and commanded his most loyal cronies to follow. Stiles made note of those who had, and those who hadn’t. Danny hadn’t. Stiles wouldn’t have either. Sometimes, Jackson didn’t need friends.

Stiles was glad that the rest of the team seemed preoccupied by that, even if it wouldn’t last for long. Someone bending their locker in two kind of demanded attention. 

He grabbed Scott by the wrist, gagging in his mouth at the sight of blood, but he forced himself to think about the basic first aid he was forced to learn. It was one of the hazards of practicing with Jackson Whittemore. He tried to drag the other teen away from the scene of the crime, before anyone else noticed what had happened - or rather, could understand what had happened. He shuffled Scott out into the hall, dabbing at his hand with Scott’s uniform. The wounds weren’t as bad as he thought they would be. “What the fuck is going on, dude?” 

___

He was too shocked to be anything but passive, letting Stiles drag him out into the hall. “I don’t know.” Scott seemed to snap out of it, blink up at his friend in confusion and pulling away. “I don’t know! Dude, I can see things, you don’t even understand. And I can smell everything, like…I can tell the girl three classrooms down uses sour apple shampoo. And I can hear everything, I can literally hear Jackson talking about me!” The boy gestured vaguely towards the locker room, paused, and then scowled. “Butthole.”

Scott huffed, wiping his knuckles off on his jersey and frowning as he ran his thumb across the unbroken skin. How the-? Something was wrong, what was happening to him? He could feel something foreign, like an infection, slide beneath his skin and he shivered. “I’m okay, it’s nothing. I’ve just been feeling a little off. It’s the adrenaline or whatever from making it on the team, it’s no big deal.” He looked at Stiles, hoping the other boy would agree with him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to! Maybe it’s like that thing when people get so amped up they can lift a car and save a baby? Just forget it. C’mon, let’s get changed and get out of here, okay?” Nothing was wrong, things were finally falling into place. He had a hot boyfriend who actually liked him, he just made first line, Jackson got smacked down, people wanted to talk to him, everything was perfect and he wouldn’t let anything ruin it.

___

There was too much to focus on. They should get Scott’s hand treated. He wouldn’t be able to work a stick without it - or Stiles’. They had to make sure no one freaked out about the locker. Stiles was pretty sure he could convince everyone in the locker room to stay quiet. Even if he wasn’t as popular as his friends, the guy who shoved Jackson Whittemore tended to command a lot of influence. Former friends. Maybe - he didn’t know.

But Scott was talking nonsense, and Stiles wanted to get a better view of his injured hand. Scott looked like he was falling apart, and Stiles was worried for him. What he assumed seemed so unfair. On the field today, Scott had been  _unreal_. 

"Hey Scott - Scott focus on me, dude. Come on." Stiles said, brows furrowed with concern. He bracketed Scott against the lockers, close enough that he could see the shadows of Scott’s lashes across his flushed cheeks, and Stiles had to admit that this was a really good look for him. They hadn’t even been able to celebrate yet.

"Where do you get your juice?" 

___

Scott leaned back against the cool metal of the lockers, letting his eyes close for a moment to try and focus. His hands found their way to Stiles’s waist, a new rush of emotions flooding through him, replacing the rage and the fear, but no less intense. He groaned softly, feeling like someone had rubbed his nerves raw, leaving him too exposed.

“My…what?” He blinked his eyes open, brows furrowed in complete confusion. “Dude, my mom does all the grocery shopping, you know that.” What did juice have to do with anything? Did Stiles drink out of the orange juice carton again, that would be-OH. Oooooh. “Wait,  _steroids?_  You think I’m taking steroids?! No way, I haven’t taken anything! How could you even think that? You know I’d never cheat.”

He put a hand on Stiles’s chest and pushed, annoyed by the accusation. “I’m just a little…I don’t know. I can’t rein it in. I feel like I’m going to come out of my skin, Stiles. It feels  _good_ , you know? Like I can run forever without worrying about breathing. And like I can go a whole second practice right now. Nothing’s wrong with me, I’m just better?”

___

Scott sounded so aghast, Stiles wanted to hug him forever. Scott wouldn’t do that. Stiles barely knew the guy, but already, he was the exception to so much of his pessimistically-tinged realism. But when Scott pushed him back, he nearly fell on his ass.

He reached out, blindly grabbing for Scott’s shoulders to steady himself. Slipping even closer wasn’t something he had to consider, motivated by both the urge to wipe the disappointment off Scott’s face and the urge to spread him out on the nearest flat surface and watch him make a whole lot of other faces. “Dude, relax, okay. You’re just pumped. You did crazy shit today. You’ve been expecting this for weeks.”

That sounded weak. Stiles didn’t buy it, but he started leading Scott towards the locker room. He carefully stepped around the fact that he’d made the accusation. Hopefully it was empty enough by now that they could grab their shit and go. Besides, if Scott wanted to take part in some illicit drug trade, he’d have to ditch Stiles, and Stiles had been happily attached to his hip throughout his recovery. They’d stayed in bed longer than it took everything to heal, save for that awful bite on Scott’s hip, which made sucking him off all the more difficult. 

He snorted loudly. “It’s not like you’re a werewolf or something. Come on. Let’s make out in front of the team again. Facebook wasn’t official enough?”

___

“Yeah, I guess.” He looked suddenly so unsure, emotions swinging wildly back and forth without his control. It was exhausting to be so amped and then crash over and over, and Scott sagged against Stiles. What the hell was wrong with him? He might argue that everything was okay, but he could feel something inside that didn’t belong. It tore through him, messing with his thoughts and leaving his head spinning. Was he just sick? How could he feel so invincible one minute and like he was being pulled apart the next?

Scott sighed, letting himself be led anywhere Stiles wanted to go. The worries perched on the edge of his tongue, but he held them back. He wasn’t sure why, he trusted Stiles more than anyone, but he’d always been a quiet and private kid. He never shared his pain with anyone, locking all the weakness away where no one could see it and painting over the cracks with a smile that fooled everyone. He never let anyone in and he hesitated now, burying the fear deep. It was probably nothing, he was overreacting. Everything happened so fast, it was probably just the adrenaline talking. Scott ran his thumb across the back of his knuckles and the completely healed, unbroken skin. He was okay.

The boy managed to huff a laugh. “I think I’d rather be a vampire. You get all the girls that way and you don’t smell like wet dog.” He made a face at the suggestion, trying to look nonchalant but his skin seemed to burn even hotter. “I’m sure Coach will definitely appreciate that.”

___

"Hm - and you’d conveniently sparkle when you’re naked, and still be really into biting. I might get behind that." Stiles snickered. The dent in Scott’s locker - and that was putting it kindly - put a damper on Stiles mood, but the locker room was mostly empty. The last few people who filtered out saluted Scott on making the team, unapologetic awe clear on their features and just a hint of badly concealed jealousy. Stiles let them distract them, then he pushed Scott against the nearest wall and distracted him with his mouth. It was much more effective. Stiles liked being effective.

Almost as much as he liked taking Scott apart.

"S’fine, dude," he muttered at length, pressing the words straight into Scott’s mouth. "We’ll tell Coach y’found it like this… Someone’s playing shitty pranks. No one’ll snitch. Think about going home, and everything I’m gonna do to you when you’re in my bed."

Super strength, super speed, agility - energy, mood swings? Stiles wasn’t sure what caused that, but right now, he was pretty sure it meant they were gonna have amazing sex. Amazinger sex. Teaching Scott how to move his tongue was quickly becoming Stiles’ favorite thing ever. It probably was nothing. He’d long learned that the finer things in life were things you could measure, and Stiles forced down the urge to ask just how fast Scott could run, or how strong he’d become. It was for the best, probably. Yeah. 

"I gotta congratulate you, bro."

___

Scott shoved his boyfriend, more pleased than he’d be willing to admit. “You’re the pale one, you’d be more likely to sparkle than me. Haven’t you seen those movies? Er…not that I’ve seen them or anything. I don’t watch crap like that.” Unless his mom rented them and they had one of their mother-son movie nights. They were pretty terrible, but at least he could focus on the fact the actors were kind of hot? That had to make it slightly better. “The biting though…”

He wound his arms around Stiles’s neck, melting into his kisses and losing all sense of where they were or who might be watching. It was hard to think of anything else when Scott was able to slip his tongue past parted lips and steal a taste of him. Kissing might be his favorite new pastime, it was a shame he’d waited so long to try it. Stiles could wreak havoc on his body with that mouth. No, maybe it was his hands, they could take him apart. Mmmm, but his shoulders and the way the muscles tensed down his back as they fucked, that was the best thing about this. Or the look in his eye where Scott just  _knew_ what Stiles was thinking without saying a word, that must be it. No, it was definitely the way he could tease his hips in slow circles when they’d stripped to their boxers, grinding down against the thin cotton in ways that were never ever enough.

With a groan, the boy buried his face in Stiles’s neck, his runaway thoughts having physical consequences.  “I can think of a few ways, dude. Take me back to your house and if your Dad’s not home, I’ll thank you for all the private lessons.”

___

"Bullshit." Stiles challenged, and he didn’t know how that was endearing. The Twilight movies were shit, but the last one saved them by being exceptionally awful. Stiles loved it, and Scott was the worst liar in the history of liars. He didn’t know why he was attracted to that. The people in his life were kind of amazing at spinning truths. In the quiet of his mind, Stiles guessed it was because it was nice knowing someone genuinely liked him. 

Then Scott moved his hips, and Stiles forgot how to think.

"You think we’re done, McCall? I’ve got a lot more to teach you. You’re good, but you still can’t beat me." Stiles murmured, nearly purring against his lover’s ear. He pinched the tip between his teeth, his hand sliding between them to dip into Scott’s shorts. He cupped Scott with a familiarity Stiles reveled in, stroking him like they hadn’t been through the most bizarrely-amazing tryout Stiles had ever seen. "You gotta thank me for all future lessons, too."

And maybe he was more invested in watching his boyfriend come apart in semi-public places than he should have been. That didn’t stop him from wanting Scott to be loud.

___

“No no no no, not here! Stiles, no ah-! Y-you, fucker…” The back of Scott’s head hit the locker behind him with a dull clang. They were going to get caught. Coach was still here, they were so dead. This was the worst idea every, oh my god, they were going to get detention and someone was going to call his mom to tell her that he’d been frick fracking in the locker room after tryouts and, and… He thrust helplessly against Stiles’s hand and mentally cursed. How the hell could Stiles convince him to do just about anything?

“I hate you.” He growled, trying to keep his voice down as he rubbed his own palm against Stiles’s groin through his pants. “I hate you so much. I hate you for- _fuck_ -ever.” Whatever this thing was inside of him, it seemed to revel in the risk and Scott growled again, a little less human. He attacked Stiles’s mouth, biting hard on his lip and soothing it with a swipe of his tongue.

Scott gripped the band of Stiles’s shorts, yanking him hard against his body. “C’mon, Stilinski.” He hissed challengingly. “Impress me.”

___

Stiles loved sex. He was hooked on it. He loved the hot crash of heat and skin. He got as much as he could, any way he could. It didn’t always end the way he wanted to, but sometimes it did. With Scott though, everything changed. It was wilder than he expected, hotter, rougher. Maybe it was because Scott was so responsive, so ready to scream, so keen to groan. He was an eager learner, shameless with what he wanted and always hungry for more. He made Stiles know he wanted him. And afterwards - Stiles didn’t want to think about afterwards.

(It was warm and safe and soft, and Stiles liked him. Stiles liked him so much. He didn’t know what to do with that, but he never wanted to let go. He was fucked. He was fucked.  _He was fucked_.)

Scott pulled the rug out from under him, and Stiles didn’t know what was going, but he wanted everything. For a second, all he could do was moan. He shoved Scott back, thrusting into his palm. They bumped against the lockers with a clang. Stiles snarled, chasing after Scott’s tongue with a wicked grin. His pace quickened, heart beating too loudly. 

He pinned Scott’s wrist above his head, yanking down his uniform in a single move. He ground against him hard and fast, before grabbing his hips, grip hard enough to bruise. “Want me to fuck you here Scott? Right against the lockers. Let everyone see you let everyone hear you,”

___

It just wasn’t fair. He could never say no to Stiles, he never wanted to. They kept pushing and pushing to see where his limits lay, but Scott never could seem to find them when Stiles’s hands were on his body. He did things he never thought he was capable of and loving every minute of it. His friends would never believe half the things he’d done. And then Stiles would give him that look, that tired smile afterwards when they’d laugh and he’d be so gentle that Scott’s heart would stutter. He wasn’t sure exactly what was between them, but Scott worried he might have already fallen too hard.

Scott could hear the spike in Stiles’s heart, almost like he could taste his pulse. He fought the other boy’s grip, not really trying to be escape as he squirmed against the lockers. “Shit, Stiles!” He gaped as he was stripped, bucking hard against him with a surprised groan. So much for the upper hand, he was doomed. This was what happened when he tried to challenge things that were so far out of his league. He should say no, this was such a bad idea. Of all the bad ideas, this had to at least make the top five. There was no way they’d pull this off without being caught.

“ _Yes!_ ” God damn it. He was pleading like a whore and didn’t regret a thing. Well, it was already too late for him, he couldn’t make it worse. “Unless you’re worried? You think you’re gonna make me scream for you here?”

___

The room echoed with that, and Stiles was going to do something awful like go through with it. It wasn’t fair. It shouldn’t have been fair. Stiles should have run the show. Scott had never done anything. Scott still giggled when Stiles said dick. (Stiles giggled, too. He’d rather swallow his tongue than tell anyone.)

But when Scott said jump, Stiles asked how high, and aimed for higher. They got into the worst competitions, and half the time, Stiles didn’t know who he was competing against. He wanted to get Scott loud enough that they both won. They were going to end up on YouTube and he was okay with that.

"God-" He begged, biting down on Scott’s shoulder, through a mouthful of fabric and not enough skin. He kissed up Scott’s throat, trying to claim every inch of skin he could reach before large hands gripped Scott’s thighs. He pulled him up off his feet, urging him to wrap his legs around Stiles’ waist as he slammed Scott into the locker. He was going to bruise probably. Stiles hoped he could kiss them all away.

"Suck." He ordered with a throaty moan, pressing two fingers against Scott’s plush lip. "It’s all you’re getting. You’re gonna be so loud. You’re gonna tell the whole school who’s breaking you in two."

___

Scott had no idea Stiles could lift him so easy and he wrapped his legs around the other boy to hold on. Stiles’s body pressed hard between his legs, pinning him to the lockers did nothing for his self-control and left him throbbing. He couldn’t move like this, trapped at his boyfriend’s mercy but he wasn’t going to lose the challenging gleam in his eyes. Scott wasn’t quite sure what the rules of the game were or what the prize would be, but whatever it was, he was going to win.

He felt hot, like there was a fever raging beneath his skin and a heady confidence that didn’t feel like his own. Something was so wrong, but there wasn’t a chance to worry when he was hard against Stiles’s belly. Scott open his mouth, dragging his tongue down the proffered fingers with his eyes locked with the other boy’s amber brown.  He sucked them inside, putting on a show as he slicked Stiles’s skin with quiet little whimpers that contradicted the wickedness in his gaze. There was the barest scrape of teeth as he slurped like he was giving head, slightly sharper than expected.

 _Do it_. The dare was unspoken but hung in the air between them. Stiles might be the one who came up with the ideas, but Scott was just as bad and could goad his friend into the best kinds of trouble.

___

Scott McCall was unreal. He was every bad idea Stiles ever imagined wrapped in more charm than Stiles could dream of. Stiles watched a tease of pink tongue peek out between his fingers, a broken groan ripping through him. He knew what Scott felt like when he was licking his cock just like that. He knew how good it would be to give in. “God, McCall, didn’t know you could be such a fucking slut.”

His fingers slid across Scott’s tongue, spit dribbling down his palm. Stiles pinned Scott against the locker, grabbing a handful of his hair and forcing his head up as his other hand slipped lower. Slick fingers stroked between Scott’s thighs, teasing his balls before pushing in at the same time. Scott felt so good when he was opening around Stiles.

"Anytime, anywhere, and you get so wet for me. All for me. Wish you could see yourself like this how hot you are. You’d let me fuck you in front of the whole team if I asked."

___

“I can be a lot of things, Stiles.” What the fuck was wrong with his mouth today? It was like his filter was completely broken. Something kept spurring him on, clawing inside of his head and demanding to be released. Logic didn’t matter anymore, the world narrowed into wants and needs. When Stiles looked at him like that, he didn’t want to fight the feeling anymore and gave in.

Scott gripped the boy’s shoulders hard, bearing his teeth as his head was yanked back. He groaned at the touch, legs clenching tighter around Stiles’s waist and cursing viciously. “You want them to watch? What if they want a ride? You’ve gotta…ah…you’ve gotta show them I’m yours. You’ve got to prove it.”

His face went slack, groaning too loud to keep anything a secret before biting off the end. No, he wasn’t going to lose! He bit his lip, trying to keep himself silent. There were heartbeats outside the locker room door, the boy could hear them clearly somehow. He couldn’t let himself fall apart.

___

Scott  _fucking_  McCall! Stiles snarled, biting down on his pulse until it jumped beneath his lips. He love how husky Scott’s voice got when he moaned, how good he sounded when he was fucked. Stiles just didn’t think he’d ever heard him like that.

Pleasure surged down his spine, flooding his nerves. He shoved Scott against the locker, pushing so his lower back lifted off it just so. Stiles pulled out. Scott didn’t have the chance to breathe before he pushed back in. Stiles moaned, and didn’t care who heard, thrusting into impossibly tight heat. He could spend hours opening Scott up, tasting him and touching him where no one else had the privilege. Scott ran so hot, it was amazing.

Stiles had him cornered, resting his brow against Scott’s, taking long, measured gasps against his soft, soft lips. His hand closed over Scott’s cock, stroking too quickly, smearing precum down his throbbing shaft, and it was a mess, such a mess. “They’ll hear you and they’ll know. No one can have you like I do. They’ll want and they’ll beg and I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t care.”

Stiles didn’t care who showed up right now, he wasn’t stopping until he tore Scott apart.

___

The boy gave a strangled moan, entire body shaking as he bit his lip bloody to keep from screaming. It hurt, oh god, it  _hurt_  and then it didn’t and he didn’t care as long as it didn’t stop! Everything was sharp teeth and raw friction, he was coming completely undone. Scott sobbed against Stiles’s mouth begging in slurred, rambling breaths.

“Yours!” The bravado was fucked from him and he surrendered with a shout. “Need you, fuck me. Fuck me! Stiles,  _please_.” He was never going to live this down. If people didn’t know about them yet, they sure as hell were going to now. There were voices, everything was getting confused in his head as he drowned. Clawed fingers dug into Stiles’s shoulders as he scrambled for a way to hang on, heart racing too fast and eyes reflecting yellow. He lost, but he’d put up a valiant effort, keening as he was stroked roughly. Stiles demanded pleasure and Scott’s body betrayed him to cruel hands.

“Come in me.” Scott pleaded, voice broken. “I wanna be yours, wanna make them know!” The boy came with a howl, slapping a hand across his mouth and biting down to try and stop himself as he spilled thick between them. 

___

Scott was amazing. Stiles gasped helplessly, struggling for control. All he wanted to do was thrust into that suffocating heat, to tear his lover apart. He fit like a too tight glove, tight muscles dragging across his aching cock. It felt like he was being clawed in two. There was blood on his tongue, and Stiles didn’t know how it got there. He didn’t care. He licked his way past pink lips, swallowing every moan, every shudder. Stiles didn’t have the strength to fight back his own. 

His knees buckled feebly. He pushed in harder, faster, giving in as he felt the ground slip from under him and the world fade. Scott’s eyes were glowing, and he didn’t care. He didn’t fucking care. Darkness prickled at the corner of his vision, pleasure hidden right beneath it. It left his nerves keening with want. Sweat dripped across his brow, sliding down the tip of his nose. Stiles moaned into Scott’s jaw. He sucked his neck, feeling every plea beneath his lips.

He pushed Scott’s hand back, pinning it to the locker. The school would know. The world would know. Scott clenched around him when he came. Stiles couldn’t - Stiles couldn’t! Scott sounded like an animal. Stiles never heard anything hotter. “Scott - Scott!”

He came hard, entire body trembling with it. His hand slipped from Scott’s hip. All Stiles could do was hold on. He filled Scott up, painting his insides with his cum, fucking him until he was utterly spent. He nearly fell over, but that was okay. For the first time in a long time, he was sure someone would catch him when he needed it.

He dragged Scott to the ground, arms wrapped tight around his neck. Gurgling with pleasure, he slurred, “Scott yuuur’mazing.”

He didn’t feel the blood that dripped down his back. He didn’t see the way Scott’s throat healed over. “Come home w’me… Show’r there.”

___

Scott couldn’t speak, sagging limply against the other boy with a groan. Cum dripped slick down his thighs and he dragged his fingers through the mess across his stomach, stunned. He nodded weakly as the golden glow faded from his eyes, wondering if he’d ever be able to stand away. All of his limbs felt loose and liquid. Every part of his body inside and out ached, raw and abused.

He nuzzled into the warm boy next to him, licking the salty sweat from Stiles’s skin. “Home….home’s good. Shower’s good. Gimme…a minute. Or like ten.” Or never. Never sounded really great. Maybe he’d just be able to lay here in a heap for the rest of his life. Whatever it was that had gotten into him had been just the best idea, holy fuck. A weak hand patted the side of Stiles’s face with a crooked smile. “S’good. I think I died for a second.”

“Stilinski! McCall!”

The boy startled at the voice, trying to curl into Stiles like he could somehow make himself small enough to disappear.  _Oh my goooood._

Coach scowled and flung a towel at the two sprawled bodies. “Next time you two idiots decide to celebrate, wait until I’m gone so I don’t get trapped in my office listening to the whole damn thing! Now I’m going to go get a drink until I can forget anything or die, whatever comes first.” Finstock stomped off, muttering about degenerates and how at least they hadn’t used his office this time.

Scott stared open mouthed after him for a long moment before he lost it, pulling the towel over his face and doubling over in hysterics. “Duuuude, he’s going to be making us run suicides until we die! That’s it, I can’t ever come to practice again. I’m never going to be able to look him. Just leave me here to die.”

___

Scott was gooood and warm and soft and fuzzy, like a puppy, a super sexy puppy, and Stiles had been to corners of the internet that made that thought vaguely uncomfortable.  They hadn’t even gotten their jerseys off. Stiles wondered if that stain would stay. Stiles hoped it would, and every time Scott ran out on the field, he’d think about how he got it and -

Blood was not meant to flow that quickly. His face was on fire, and Stiles stared, open-mouthed and just a little terrified, more than a little grateful that the towel hid so much. The idea that anyone else got to see Scott, actually see him, not just play fights and jokes, enraged him. He was so close to doing something insane like punching Coach. He was distracted by being thoroughly mortified.

"Dude, don’t worry. He might die." One could only hope. Stiles couldn’t help it. He broke out into giggles, rocking back and forth, kissing the sweat off his boyfriend’s brow. His boyfriend,  _oh God._  

"Oh my God we should do it in his office!" He smashed Scott’s face against his neck, hiding him from the world. He laughed because he couldn’t not.

And then, well, he couldn’t not kiss Scott.

Stiles took that boy home, but not before making out with him in his Jeep all over again. They kept Coach’s towel. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ongoing collaborative work/RP!
> 
> You can find Tmautog's awesome fics on [tumblr](http://tmautog.tumblr.com/tagged/writing) and keep up with this story [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune/TruebornAlpha [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](runicscribbles.tumblr.com)
> 
> Art by the amazing [Rouvere](http://rouvere.tumblr.com)


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